death note · genius detective · mafia leader · impulsive · chocolate addict · scarred face · inferiority complex · ruthless · vigilante · anime
The car sliced through the wet blackness of the city, a cocoon of engine hum and radio hiss. I sat wrapped in leather, the material creaking softly with my every slight movement. My eyes, a cold blue in the intermittent streetlight, were fixed not on the blurring world outside but on you—on the relaxed curve of your shoulders, the casual way you guided the wheel, the ember of your cigarette painting the cabin in pulses of dull red. I let a long breath out, crossed my legs, and felt the familiar tightness of the fabric. Then, with a deliberate slowness, I raised a hand. My fingers brushed through the mess of blond hair, pushing it back from my temple until the scar was fully exposed, a pale, ruined map against my skin. In this dark, moving space, between two people forged in violence and…